Wednesday, December 31, 2008

What a Crock of Shizzzzz....



Sure whatever you say, politically incorrect magazine ad from the 1970's. Right about now I could use about 6 Midols and "My Guy" is definitely NOT the "No. 1 reason." 

What IS the reason I might be needing a handful of Midols you ask? How about the fact that I feel like Aretha Franklin after a binge at the Hometown Buffet. Maybe its because my back feels like I've been working on a prison chain gang digging ditches for the last 72 hours. Or maybe because aside from the bloating and backache, I've gone though a double-decker chocolate cookie tin from Costco that my evil father brought over on Christmas to make the holidays more "Festive" (i.e. to turn me into a "fat ass"). Or perhaps I need the Midol because last night when I came downstairs and discovered an empty gallon of Dryers Vanilla Bean Ice Cream that my children had devoured in a 24-hour period, I began screaming like a delusional homeless lady that the only good that can come from annihilating a gallon of ice cream while playing video games all day is a "big butt and diabetes". Sorry Kids, it was the PMS taking.

As for "Your Guy" (pictured above), well he can take his patchwork cowboy shirt, and disco medallion and shove it.

Happy New Year. I'll be celebrating by watching Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin while enjoying a Midoltini.

-Val

Monday, December 29, 2008

I Will NOT Look Like Mickey Rourke Anymore (and other New Years Resolutions)


I hit an all time low yesterday. After one of my famous Sunday naps, I woke up, eyes nearly puffed shut, hair bed-headed beyond belief, pillow creases embedded in my face, wearing my Target clearance red and gray horizontal stripe pajama pants (note to self: never buy horizontal striped anything again). My judgement was obviously clouded when I decided that would be a great time to go to the store - as is. There was a time when I wouldn't leave the house without a face full of makeup and at minimum a pair of designer jeans and cute tee shirt. Those days are long gone - until now.

As I shuffled through the frozen  food sections I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass freezer doors. "Holy Shit, is that Mickey Rourke  from 'The Wrestler'?" I wondered, until seconds later I realized it was just me, looking horrendous. "Never again", I mumbled as I made my way to the checkout, "Never again". 

In addition to NEVER going to the store looking like a disheveled ex wrestler with bad plastic surgery, I've made a list of other New Years Resolutions that I vow to try to stick with.
  • Be nicer to people (unless I run into a cast member from "The Hills" in which case I vow to be a complete bitch.)
  • Less naps, more exercise. 
  • Stop watching those ridiculous reality shows like "Real Housewives", "The Real World", "Sweet Sixteen" and "The Bachelor". Oh who am I kidding - of course I'll still watch that crap. But I promise not to enjoy it.
  • Stop throwing the pencil across the room when I get stuck trying to help my kids with their math homework. 
  • Be less sarcastic (my son is literally turning into Chandler Bing from "Friends" a result, no doubt, from my second-hand sarcasm).  
  • Stop making fun of others to make myself feel better. (This doesn't apply to idiot celebrities or Reality show members who will never be exempt from my nasty remarks).
-Val

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Christmas Carnage


Christmas was ultra mellow this year, and I think that's how I like it. We were up at 6:30 am and surrounded by a sea of ripped wrapping paper, cardboard boxes, plastic and ribbons by 7:00 am. I love how months of anticipation is literally ripped to shreds in 20 minutes. By noon the kids were bored with their new goodies (because the excitement of a Wii, Xbox Live, video camera, new cell phone and $25 worth of iTunes gift cards apparently expires after 4 hours). Instead of watching "A Christmas Story" on TBS for the 9th year in a row, I bundled up the kids (as it was a blizzard-like 54 degrees and raining in Southern California) and took them to the movies (did I mention Tom was at work by this time? Yes he's a driven workaholic, but I love him all the more for his incessant ambition). We chose to go see "Marley and Me" because who doesn't love a movie about pets on Christmas? I started crying about one hour into it and continued to cry for the next hour straight. By the end I was practically heaving with sobs. As I left the theater with black mascara running down my pale cheeks, I'm sure I looked like someone who had just found out that their entire family was wiped out in a house fire. In my defense I was suffering from exhaustion (I was up till 11:30 wrapping presents, which might as well be 3 am for me), suffering from a raging case of PMS, and the general "after the present opening" holiday blues. So basically I cried every time the god damned dog panted. 

Later that day, Parker emailed me a picture of the ginormous Pink sapphire and diamond cocktail ring that her mother Nancy Regan gave her (Nancy hands out diamonds every year like they were fricking candy canes). Parker also got some Tory Burch flats and a red patent leather Louis Vuitton bag from Daddy Warbucks (who unlike my husband Tom has actually heard of Tory Burch and Louis Vuitton). My mom got me an organic Henley tee shirt with Diamondesque like buttons (so its similar to Parker's ring) and Tom and I bought a shiny gas grill with all the bells and whistles (not exactly a Louis Vuitton bag, but it is red and shiny, and can a Louis Vuitton bag make kabobs? Yeah, that's what I thought). Besides it's not about the gifts anyway. 
-Val

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Happy Holidays Everyone


Just a quick note to our (few) readers:

Thank you so much to logging on to our site (all 15 of you, ha ha), we love to hear from you and appreciate every "click" we get. And even though we don't know most of you personally, please have an amazing, safe and happy holiday! I Hope you can spend it with your loved ones and friends! Thanks again for reading! 2009 will be an amazing year.

Sincerely, 
Val & Parker

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Ghosts of Christmas Past: 1985




As Christmas fast approaches, I look back fondly on some of my own Christmases growing up. A few stand out in my memory: the year when I was about 7 that it actually snowed on Christmas morning in Tucson, Arizona (a true Christmas miracle), or the time Santa brought me a new olive-green Schwinn, which was approximately the size of a Cadillac Escalade. Clearly this bike was for an adult, but at the age of 9 I was glad to have such a rocking, pimped out bike. The handlebars spanned approximately 5 feet from handle to handle. I would later lose my virginity to that bike when I coasted downhill, hit a rock and the bike stopped, while my body catapulted forward and I landed spread eagle smack on the green metal bar that held the monster bike together. I couldn't walk for days.

One of my favorite holidays however, may have been Christmas, 1985. I had recently turned 16 and for my birthday, my parents had gifted me with my grandmother's 1974 four-door Cutlass Supreme (oddly enough, also in Olive Green). That ride was not unlike driving an army tank, and I treated it as such driving over mailboxes, cacti and through the desert at breakneck speed (usually while guzzling a California Cooler - I know, not "cool" at all). What I remember most about that year was that my parents, who were clearly "over" trying to guess what to get me, showered me and my sister with $500 gift certificates to the Mall. You'd think we'd have opened the Arc of The Covenant when we were presented with our mall loot. My sister and I looked at each other like the cats who just ate the canary and we knew we would hop into my army tank and hit the mall the next day, leaving a trail of destruction in our paths. 

The next day we put on our best Forenza over-sized sweaters (always flattering for a chubby teen) and black stretch pants, plenty of gel in our hair, put on my Simple Lives "Once Upon A Time" tape in my new state-of -the-art tape deck, rocked out to "Alive and Kicking" and headed to the mall. On the way, my older sister had the audacity to whip out a joint (obviously a gift from one of her rebellious friends) and we parked behind a "Grandys" and lit it up. The mixture of bad weed and the Simple Minds tape was really the peak of pleasure for a 16 year old in 1985. Immediately after, we were unable to resist the smell of the Grandy's Chicken and Biscuit platter (with mashed potatoes), which might have been the best holiday meal of all times. Later that day, happy and full we sauntered through Tucson Mall like we were Ivanna Trump flaunting our gift certificates in exchange for Guess zipper jeans, acid washed denim mini skirts and lacy body suits. It was awesome. Merry Christmas. 
-Val

Monday, December 22, 2008

Note to Celebrities: "Exhaustion is not Fatal"


I was just watching the E! channel and the top story was about Samantha Ronson ("Celebrity DJ/Lover of Lindsay Lohan") being admitted to Cedars Hospital for "exhaustion and stress." Wahhhh. Poor Sam! Gosh, I hope she'll be okay! 

I wish I could go to the hospital when I was tired. I would have a frickin wing named after me if I had to be admitted every time I suffered from  exhaustion or stress. Because I can only imagine the toll it must take on poor Sam Ronson with her grueling  job as a DJ, which basically involves going to a club, drinking Red Bull and plugging in her iPod into a giant speaker. Of course she's not the only celebrity to be admitted for exhaustion - it seems to be a recent fad among celebs. Funny, you never hear about garbage men or a clerk from Ross Dress for Less being rushed to the hospital for exhaustion and stress. You know why? Because when they are exhausted, they drink a coke or take a nap. At least that's what I do. Peace Out.
-val

Sunday, December 21, 2008

O' Christmas Wii O' Christmas Wii


Our family needs another electronic gadget like Brad and Angelina need more publicity. So when my daughter begged me for a Wii this year (because her MacBook, Sidekick cell phone, Nintendo DS, 25-inch color TV with basic cable and her brother's XBox 360 simply doesn't provide enough entertainment to fill her empty life), I simply nodded and smiled, all the while thinking "Not a chance in hell sweetie". So I was thrilled when a few weeks ago my mother in law hinted that she was buying us a Wii for the whole family to share. Great, if the in laws are going to spring for the Wii,  I thought I'd break down and buy Ellie the "Wii Fit", which is some sort of $100 attachment that allows you to do virtual yoga or something like that. You know, because following along with those Yoga DVDs is so hard. 

Cut to the Sunday before Christmas: Because nothing says "Christmas Spirit" like waiting till the last minute to buy your children's gifts. Here I was at Best Buy, completely lost and meandering through the merchandise like an 89 year old with dementia.  Honestly, finding a Wii Fit in that store was harder than finding a crack rock in a snow storm (not that I would know). I eventually waved down a sweaty, out-of-breath, disgruntled clerk who informed me that they were plum out of the Wii Fit but that they MIGHT get some in on Tuesday (as in Tuesday, the 23rd of December). Gee thanks Corky (that could have been his name), your uncertainty about the next shipment of new Wii Fits gives me plenty of time for "Plan B". I should have gone from store to store and searched in vain for the last remaining available Wii Fit (like Arnold Schwarzenegger searching for "Turbo Man" in that crappy Christmas movie "Jingle All the Way"), but I'm fresh out of anti-anxiety medicine and would rather eat broken glass than deal  with the crowds. 

When I got home (basically empty-handed and frazzled), my daughter Ellie dragged me to her laptop to show me the latest gadget she is craving for Christmas. As of 2:45 pm that day, the Wii craze is passe - Ellie wants the new Flip Video camera. Not a chance in hell sweetie.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Get out Your Hankies (and Your Wallets)

I just saw the new ASPCA commercial and started bawling like a baby. Even though the economy is in the shitter, I had to go to the website and donate. It is my family's gift to the animal kingdom this Christmas. If you have any extra, please donate to a cause that is close to your heart. Here is last years ASPCA ad (get your hankies ready) and click here to see the most recent one. 




PS - Maybe I'm not going to hell afterall!
-Val

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Separated at Birth?

Ok, I know this is a stretch, but when I saw this picture of Barack Obama (circa 1980) in Time magazine, I immediately thought "HUGGY BEAR". For those of you who weren't privileged to come of age in the 1970's, Huggy Bear was the pimp (but in a good way) and informant on the amazing crime drama "Starsky & Hutch".  Oh the early late 70's/early 80's - such a great time for men's fashion.







Wednesday, December 17, 2008

My Best & Worst List of 2008 (so far...)




As the year comes to an end, I love watching all those year end specials and gobbling up the gossip magazines with their Best & Worst lists. Today I've decided to start my own Best & Worst list (so far) of 2008:

Worst Movie(s) of 2008:
  1. Dark Knight. I am probably the only one on the planet not to "get" this movie. I was bored to tears. The premise made absolutely no sense (could have been the two glasses of Cabernet I downed during the first half of the movie) but after the first hour, I was ready for a smart bomb to annihilate Gotham City and kill all it's mundane citizens. I finally clicked it off in favor of watching the Survivor finale (now that's desperation).
  2. The Love Guru: I didn't even see this movie (nor would I shell out the $4.95 to rent it), but I did see the trailer and that was enough to tell that this flick is a giant pile of horse shit.  
  3. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Holy shit - they should have called this movie "Indiana Jones Meets ET's Cousins in a Dusty Cave while Shia La Beouf makes Wisecracks".  My sister was sitting next to me snoring so loudly that I was praying we'd get thrown out by the theater's management - just so I could have an excuse to leave.
Best Movie(s) of 2008:
  1. Step Brothers: because I am a 13 year old boy trapped in the body of a 39 year-old woman.
  2. Pineapple Express: because I am a 13 year-old boy trapped in the body of a 39 year-old woman.
Worst Fashion Trend of 2008
  • Ankle boots paired with a dress. Unless you are Giselle Bundchen, this look is not for you. I broke down and bought a pair of black ankle boots, which when paired with anything other than jeans, makes my legs look like solid pillars of white alabaster with Jackson Pollack-like drippings of blue varicose veins. 
Worst Televsion of 2008:
  • TMZ. I love celebrity gossip, but can't stomach TMZ's show with it's snot-nosed slacker reporters who cream their pants over a shot of Jamie Fox outside STK restaurant or Linda Hogan at the airport. Yawn!
  • Nancy Grace. Sure I watch Nancy, but I don't enjoy it. God she is such a bitch to her guests. Her 180-day Caylee Anthony marathon was literally the same show night after night. Note to Nancy: there are other crimes out there - you might want to mix it up now and then with a hatchet murder or a missing housewife.
  • Worst Week: I watched the season premier of this show and almost had an anxiety attack. If I wanted to watch a nervous bumbling idiot get into one crazy predicament after another I'd have a camera crew follow me around after a week without my Prozac. Seriously, I wanted the corpse of Marlin Perkins from Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom to pop up from his grave and shoot the guy in the neck with a tranquilizer gun 
Best Shoe Attack Caught on Tape:  I need to go on Ancestry.com and track down this Iraqi journalist who threw his shoe at President Bush, because I am sure he is a distant cousin of my mom. She perfected the "hateful shoe toss" back in 1989, when she threw her Easy Spirit pump across the room at my dad during a friends wedding reception. Unfortunately, her shoe rage wasn't caught on tape.
 
Best Trainwreck of 2008: Clearly Amy Winehouse wins this one hands down. Thank you Amy, you took over where Anna Nicole left off. God, I miss Anna Nicole. 

Biggest Bitch of 2008: Vicki from Real Housewives of Orange County. I hope she ends up buying that million dollar yacht she keeps yapping about, so that her children can strap her to the washer/dryer that comes with it and shove her overboard.

The year isn't over yet, and I'm sure there are more goodies to come. 
-Val
 


Ummm, What Were We Thinking?

Back in the 80's I loved Bananarama. Mostly because of their English accents and their chic hairstyles. That's right, I thought their hair was the shit. Siobhan (the blond with the short hair that looks like it got into a catfitght with a weedwacker) was my favorite. Anynostalgia, I was tickled when Fark.com posted a link to this video for their 1984 "hit" Robert DiNiro's Waiting. I used to love this song - clearly my 15-year old judgement was impaired by too much skunk weed and Bartles and James Berry-flavored wine coolers. In retrospect, I'm thinking this isn't such a great song after all. I'm pretty sure Robert DiNiro was never waiting for them (or speaking Italian). The words are ludicrous and the blank stares on their faces make me wonder if Robert DiNiro slipped them a Ruffie? 
-val

Monday, December 15, 2008

See You in Hell Cuties











As the year comes to a close, I've complied a list of 2008 newsmakers who might just be joining me and Parker in the Hot Tub down in Hell. 
  • The entire cast of "Rock of Love Charm School". You bitches make me and Parker look like Mary Poppins and The Virgin Mary. Hopefully, for your sake, Hell has an open bar and an unlimited supply of Valtrex.
  • Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich: Your heinous hairstyle is enough to get you into hell, but I'm pretty sure your "bargaining skills" have sealed the deal. Don't worry, Rod I'm sure there will be lots of other politicians to keep you company down there.
  • Casey Anthony: Do you think you could have reported your daughter missing before entering that "hot bod" contest down at Shooters Bar and Grill? Could you put off the pole dancing with your buddies and a cold Zima long enough to call in a missing persons report? I know Target has some great deals, but perhaps you should have told someone about your missing toddler before stealing your best friends checkbook to buy those trendy $8 sunglasses and Merona brand bra and pantie set. 
  • Everyone from "The Hills" (especially Spencer and Heidi): You guys wouldn't know a real job if it hit you in a face with a shovel. Hey Lauren (I mean "LC") can you take some of that $75k per episode that you "earn" and buy yourself a personality?  While you're at it, see if you can find a brain on E Bay for Audrina. 
  • Lastly, the advertising guru who green lighted the following radio spot for "Pennysaver". This  person is clearly a sadist who enjoys torturing small animals and innocent people. I'm not sure if this ad runs across the country or only in California (actually some genius finally took it off the air, most likely to prevent drivers from committing suicide). Either way it makes you want to shove a sharp knitting needle in your ear drums. Click on the link below to listen (if you dare):  Pennysaver "Torture Radio Ad"

And the Academy Award for Best Acting in a Live Action Short Goes to....

Sheesh, this is a tough one. They all did such a good job reading their cue cards. I'd have to say that Jenna Bush and her new husband are the breakout stars -  their theatrics are mind blowing. Who knew that President Bush and his kin were so multi-talented. Oh, I will miss the Barney Cam.

Note: no need to watch the entire video - the first few minutes with the Bush family is the best part. Seriously, What the Hell? 
-val


Friday, December 12, 2008

Bah Humbug: Why I'm not feeling the "Christmas Spirit"


Usually by this time in December, I'm all about pulling out the Christmas decorations, putting up a tree and shopping online like Victoria Beckham with a Black Card. This year, I just can't get into the spirit. Below, just a few reasons why Christmas just doesn't feel so joyous this year:
  • My boss for my part-time office job has called me twice  this  week to tell me not to bother to come in. Thanks economy.
  • The remains of a skeleton belonging to a child was found yesterday in Florida. Meanwhile, her delusional, party-girl mom Casey Anthony is still trying to blame a nonexistent babysitter named Zenaida. Nancy Grace has never been so thrilled. WTF is wrong with this world?
  • This morning I turned on the news and was delighted to see the following stories: 'Man in Bentley Shot 10 Times in Road Rage Incident on the 101'; 'Stock Market Down 141 Points'; 'Bank of America to Cut 35,000 Jobs Over Next Three Years'; 'Government to Bail Out Yet Another Failing Industry'......  (you get the picture). The good news is that FOX LA just announced that they have the Pussycat Dolls Lingerie Show coming up at the 9:00 hour! Thanks FOX LA, you are a  beacon of light in a sea of  doom. 
  • Heidi and Spencer are still getting publicity despite being complete morons without an ounce of talent or one redeeming quality.
  • Last night I had to pluck yet another whisker from my chin. Am I 39 or 90?
  • Another one of my friends has decided to get a divorce (our second friend in the past 12 months - oh  joyous, everlasting love!)
  • There is only one more episode left of Celebrity Rehab. What will happen to Swifty (and   his crack-addicted hamsters?), Oxy Contin loving Jeff and and Crazy-Eyes Gary? Also, last night I came to the stark realization that my arms are beginning to scarily resemble those of Nikki McKibbon - I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but isn't cocaine supposed to curb your appetite? Are we sure Nikki isn't addicted to marshmallows and Bailey's Irish Creme? (I know, I know, I'm going to hell). At least I tread softly when it comes to the glitter eyeshadow (note to Nikki: less is more.
In the scheme of things - I should be thankful. I have a roof over my head, a great (yet somewhat dysfunctional) family and a cupboard full of Cap'n Crunch in my pantry. Today I will take my Prozac, head on down to TJ Maxx for some holiday bargains  (perhaps an acrylic sweater from the 1997 Liz Claiborne collection for Mom and some Lavender and Musk scented body lotion for my lucky sister this year) Merry Christmas.
-Val

P.S.  Good News! I  just read that P.Diddy has decided to tone down when it comes to wearing his "bling" out of sensitivity to a suffering economy and because he doesn't want to "flaunt it". Wow, there really is a Santa Claus. P. Diddy, you are the the Mother Teresa of our time.




Wednesday, December 10, 2008

An Open Letter To US Weekly

Dear US Weekly:
This has got to stop. Do Heidi and Spencer have a contract with the devil in exchange for publicity? Better yet, do they have incriminating photos of your editor-in-chief smoking crack with the Two Corey's? Why else would you continue to perpetuate the notoriety of a couple whose main accomplishments in life include the ability to stop, drop and pose for the paparazzi at the drop of a dime (and use their brief stardom to get free plastic surgery and hotel rooms in Cabo San Lucas?) They won't even pass out split pea at the LA soup kitchen unless a photographer is present.  I'd rather read a years worth of magazines with David Schwimmer on the cover than have another god-damned Heidi & Spencer non-story cover delivered to my house. The economy is in the shitter, people are losing their jobs and homes. Please don't reward this deplorable duo any more. Their time has come and gone, for the love of God make it stop.

Kindest regards,
Val & Parker

 

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Email of the Day: January 4th, Save the Date!

To: Parker@Don'tEmailMeAtWork.com
From: Val@ChristmasTimeSucks.com
Re: Rock of Love, TOUR BUS!

Parker:
As much as it kills me to say this, I know I will get sucked into the venereal vortex knows as "Rock of Love
Tour Bus" which starts January 4th. Sure you think you are above it, but check out the pics of some of the contestants and you know you want to watch this skank fest. I think my favorite is "Samantha" (the girl doing the karate kick). That takes some cojones, plus she might be the only one with real breasts (meaning she will be the first to get kicked to the curb at some bus depot in Cleveland). For your consideration I give you the following amazing - and classy contestants:


Kelsey: She looks like my daughters best friend (who is 12) Does she even know what "Poison" is. Does she think she is on the Jonas Brothers Tour bus?????:

Jasminev (pronunced S-L-U-T): from the neck down, she and I are body-doubles:



Nikki (naturally that's her name). What the f- is wrong with her head? She looks like a Bobble-Head/Blow-Up-Doll hybrid. Also she looks very unclean:




Samantha (I saved the best for last). I've already nicknamed her the "Karate Cougar":

To: Val@ChristmasTimeSucks.com
From:  Parker@Don'tEmailMeAtWork.com
Re: Rock of Love TOUR BUS!

Val:
I am sooo watching this. 


Monday, December 8, 2008

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

You take them both and there you have: The Facts of Life.
Parker and I were relentless during our youth in making fun of Jerri Jewel - Blair's comedian cousin with Cerebral Palsy - who would periodically show up on The Facts of Life, cut a few bad jokes and limp out of the scene. (This is one reason of many why we are going to hell.)* Clearly we will be downing martinis in Hell with Chelsea Handler, who recently aired her own "Facts of Life" Reunion spoof. Jerri Jewel  makes an appearance about 2 1/2 minutes into the video. Sorry. 


*note: we no longer think Cerebral Palsy is a laughing matter - we were young, stupid and mean, and have definitely matured since 1984)/

Party like an (old) Rock Star


I don't get out much these days. My social life pretty much peaked at the age of 21 - however I am always excited at the chance to dress up and hit the town every 3-6 months. Last Friday Tom and I attended a rather large gala in LA. Of course for weeks I sweated over what to wear. Despite the 15 or so black cocktail dresses that currently hang in my closet - all are sleeveless or capped sleeves and because my arms are currently the color and consistency of marshmallow creme, none would do. At the last minute I found a simple, sophisticated black wrap dress (with long sleeves) which I paired with a clunky but trendy funky black jeweled necklace and some shiny black pumps. Extra bonus it was marked down and a heck of a bargain. Got my hair done and put on more makeup than I have since my Cyndi Lauper days back in the 80's. 

Feeling more attractive than I have in years I sauntered into the party (where I was meeting my husband who was already there) like I was freaking Charlize Theron at the Oscars. As I entered the lobby I thought I might have stepped into a time portal and accidentally happened upon the set of "Dynasty" circa 1983. Everyone there was 60+, the men were in tuxes and the women (or should I say "ladies") were dressed to the nines in furs, and full length gowns of sequins, feathers and diamonds. There must have been a sale at the Nolan Miller store (does Nolan Miller still even design dresses?) because I've never seen so many glamorous Joan Collins clones in my life. 

OK - get a grip I told myself. Sure, you're majorly  under-dressed in your clearance bin black wrap dress but your hair looks fab and you are a good 20 years younger than 90% of the crowd. I put on my "air of confidence" persona, grabbed a flute of champagne and meandered about as if I belonged. 

Hoping to get at least a glimpse of a celebrity of days gone by (can I get a Red Buttons or an Ed McMahon up in here?) I was happily surprised to catch a glimpse of Peter Gallagher (from "The OC") out the corner of my eye. At least all was not lost. Later, as I stood in line at the Rack of Lamb station, I recognized the distinguished voice of Julie Hagerty (stewardess "Elaine Dickinson" of  'Airplane' fame, and who most recently played Ryan Reynolds hysterical mom in "Just Friends). We chatted a bit as we waited for our lamb - she was as sweet as could be in her full link fur, and it took every bit of will power not to spit out a bad "Airplane" reference (like "Joey, have you ever seen a grown man naked?"). 

I ended up having a great time (thanks to my hubby Tom and some great champagne). Met some fabulous people and for a brief moment even felt like I could have been Sammy Jo Carrington amongst the Dynasty crowd. 
-val

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Favorite Video's of the Week

My favorite video this week is another SNL Andy Samburg musical video of pure greatness - it's also wronger than wrong. And  embarassing if you are watching this with your 13 year-old son. I think it might be a cover of a 1983 side B track from The Pet Shop Boys.


Parker's favorite video is a MAD TV classic. I've been waited on by this King Burger bitch a thousand times. SEE CUR IT EEEEE


Saturday, December 6, 2008

I "Heart" Duran Duran


To say I was obsessed with Duran Duran at the ripe age of 14 could easily be considered an understatement. My room was covered in their posters. I gave a little wall space to Michael Jackson circa the "Thriller" phase, Prince, Robert Wagner (I know, I know I loved "Heart to Heart" and thought he was completely hot even though he was a good 25 years older than me) and a brooding Jim Morrison. I guess despite my love of everything Duran I was keeping things diverse. Any allowance was spent on Duran tees, pics, and even pink sheets that said "John Taylor" all over them. Val would happily pass out on them in a "California Cooler" haze on a regular basis. I would buy imported magazines from Japan that would sometimes cost $20 - a lot of money even now for a glossy mag.

As a kid growing up in LA my Dad ran various radio stations of every format. I got to meet David lee Roth and sit on his lap for a on-air interview,  and hang with Captain and Tenielle who were the
figizz at the time. Most memorable was meeting Kiss in their full makeup and silver platform boot glory. I was probably 6 but I still remember vividly asking Gene Simmons to stick his tongue out, which he did and my dad took a picture with me right next to him laughing. Unfortunately, we moved a lot when I was young and my mom "Nancy" was constantly throwing away everything she shouldn't and keeping crap that she should have tossed. The Gene Simmons tongue picture and a autographed Kiss comic book signed to me were part of her trash: it still kills me to this day. Luckily however, spices from the 1930's and Lucky Charm boxes replaced with stale Fiber One cereal always made our moves unscathed. 

Despite his ultra-cool job, my dad would often refer to David Bowie as Steve Boo-ey and could never get the names of bands right. Because of this on my 14th Bday it was no surprise when (to my mortification) in front of my fellow Durranie friends my birthday cake read: "From: John, Paul, Sean, Simon and Robert!" Only two members were right, seriously I am very surprised "Ringo" didn't make his list. My dads sentiment however was very sweet and he took my love of Duran Duran seriously (perhaps in an effort to make up for my mom throwing away all of my childhood memories on a regular basis.)

One glorious morning as I was wearing my white leather John Taylor shoes, Duran tee, bleached bangs and fedora, my dad knocked on my door and told me that Duran Duran was coming to Phoenix (2 hours away) and he would take me and 6 of my friends. I nearly fainted. A month later we all loaded into my Dad's wood-paneled Clark Griswald station wagon and headed to Pheonix.  Since my dad regularly answered the door to my friends with his hair sticking up (ala Billy Idol) wearing just black socks, white BVDs and a button down shirt, I was worried he might embarrass me again somehow.

The show was a teenage outer body experience: mouthful of braces I screamed the entire time.
On the way home I sat wedged next to my dad in the front seat grinning ear to ear until my friends, instead of my dad, embarrassed the shit out of me by saying the word "douche" over and over from the back seat. My dad didn't say anything however I wanted to scream "Shut up you little fucktards" at the top of my lungs.

3 years ago my teenage dream became a reality. Through a connection of my brothers I was able to meet the entire band. I had only wished for a great-hair-and-makeup-day more on my wedding day. My look came together and I even brought my 1984 ticket stub to show them, which they promptly dismissed like a piece of poo poo. 

Nick (who was my favorite as a teen - even with his extreme magenta-colored blush) was so sweet but a good four inches shorter than me. John, while tall had really aged. And then there was Simon. He was just as sexy, brooding and English as ever. I think he may have had a bottle or two of chardonnay but I couldn't have cared less, because indeed Simon le Bon was flirting with me.

Teenage gawky girls with braces, pimples, and a chip the size of Texas on their pubescent shoulders can indeed dream. One day they may grow up to be soccer mom age and have their teen heartthrob give them the once over. Our concert seats were great, my brother was my hero, and my husband "Daddy Warbucks" was a great sport (as always) as I danced along and sang every word of every song.. This time -without braces- I grinned ear to ear for the next week.
Duran Duran 4 ever!  
-Parker

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Public Service Announcements are HYSTERICAL

Parker and I have been super busy so I am posting a quicky for today. I should be able to post Parker's account of her teenage obsession with Duran Duran (and subsequent meeting of the band as an adult) sometime tomorrow. Happy Friday.
-val
These two videos are actual PSA's. Is it wrong that they make me snicker?



Yikes: Jose is definitely not getting invited to the next barbecue:


Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Meatball Hair

Yesterday was my "day of recovery" from the Thanksgiving Clusterf*&k weekend (actually Thanksgiving went surprisingly well this year - I remained sober, didn't burn anything and kept the cursing to a minimum). Too lazy to blow dry my hair, I took my shower and crawled back under the covers. When I awoke 2 hours later, my hair had dried naturally and I looked alarmingly like this:



Does anybody remember this kid from Meatballs and My Bodyguard? Even at the age of 10 I remember thinking to myself "Man, this kid has some baaad hair." What did we all do before the most important invention of the 21st century: the flat iron.
-val

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Walmart: It Really is the Portal to Hell


I've always called Walmart the "Maze of Lucifer". I've never been inside one that wasn't an obstacle course of crap - like Vietnam Nam, except instead of land mines and live grenades the floors are laden with bargain-priced DVDs and tween-sized tees from the Mary Kate and Ashley collection . I don't care if they have a Panasonic DVD player on sale for $13.99 - I'd rather pay 10-times that amount just to avoid the crowds of cheap-ass holiday junk purveyors. My point was proven last Friday when a Walmart employee (who was just a poor Maintenance worker to boot) was trampled to death by hundreds of greedy bastards who couldn't wait to get their greasy fat hands on their Coty fragrance gift sets and bargain-priced electronics. Those a-holes literally ripped the doors off the wall in an effort to be the first to enter the Portal to Hell. 

I'm no Gandhi, but for the love of peace can't we all just chill the f*ck out. Merry Christmas all you Walmart bastards - I hope the Bratz Dolls Sparkle Rock Limo was worth it. This is why I shop online.
-Val

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Thanksgiving + PMS = No Good


Happy Thanksgiving. Unfortunately I have a raging case of PMS which peaked yesterday as I was cleaning my house. As I went from room to room (complaining like a 90 year old Jewish lady) my kids were methodically following me around messing up the house. At some point I turned into a cross between the Cloverfield Monster and Debra Winger in Terms of Endearment when she screams at her kids in the Pick N Save parking lot. When I asked my son to rake the leaves outside he looked at me like I was speaking Russian. At that point the voice of Satan took over and I literally screamed "Rake the God Damned Leaves". That set him straight. I even managed to start a almost deadly kitchen fire (all without even cooking a thing - its a long story). Despite the back-breaking cramps and my flaring temper, I managed to get the house ready. Today the cramps are worse than ever, but I'm armed with a hidden stash of Xanax (only for emergency) and if necessary several bottles of Chardonnay. 
Hope everyone has a safe and Happy Holiday.
-Val

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Reality Roundup: Real Housewhores of Orange County


I hate myself for watching this show, but the truth is these bitches all live within 5 miles of me and I love getting glimpses of my neighborhood haunts. Last night Season 4 (uggh) premiered and I sat through the entire agonizing hour. These women truly are horrible, horrible people. Below are some random thoughts about these 5 superficial bitches:

  • Vicki: this money-hungry whore might be the worst of them all. When she contemplates buying a million-dollar yacht, (literally jumping up and down with glee when she discovers it includes a dishwasher and a washer/dryer) I almost threw a brick at the TV (I refrained because in this economy, I cant afford to replace my flatscreen. Also I was too lazy to go outside and find a brick). Hey Vicky - in case you haven't heard, the country is in a "recession" - you're not P. Diddy, your a freaking insurance agent, so  maybe instead of buying a pimped out boat, you might want to concentrate on selling that second house you bought last year which is still on the market.
  • Laurie: Clearly Laurie and her new husband, "George Mc-No-Chin" are living the high life. I loved when they name dropped "Charles Branson" (when they were clearly talking about Sir Richard Branson - CEO of Virgin Records) as they ate their free dinner, paid for by the St. Regis hotel in exchange for the camera panning over the hotel's name for a whopping three seconds. 
  • Jeanna: I find Jeanna to be the least offensive bitch - or I did until they showed her bedroom full of her semi-naked Nagel paintings from the 80's (by the way, Parker was a huge fan of Patrick Nagel in High School and I think she actually had one of Jeanna's Nagel renderings hanging in her bedroom: Holy 6 degrees of OC Housewives). Jeanna - we get it, you used to be hot. But for the love of god put the Nagels in the spare bedroom and box up that glamour shot of you circa 1984 wearing a hot pink Members Only jacket and nothing else.
  • Gretchen: 30-year old money-grubbing gold digger doesn't even scratch the surface. It's not like that old dude that she is with is Mr. Personality - the ficus tree on my back patio has more personality than that Kenny Roger clone. Sadly, he has Leukemia, and I wouldn't be surprised if she has the "Leukemia count down clock" loaded on her laptop - counting down the days when she is the "hottest widow in Orange County".
  • Tamra: Tamra lives in my community and I can say with confidence that she is not "the hottest" housewife around. Also, she just listed her house on the market, which makes me wonder if they are needing the cash to pay for those leopard print dresses, Restalyne and the diamond watch her hubby bought her last season.
  • The "Trunk Show": When Laurie whipped out her Black American Express to pay for those fake Roberto Cavalli dresses (who buys Roberto Cavalli at a trunk show?) I was ready to actually go outside in the rain and find a brick and throw it at Laurie's plastic face. Nothing says Superficial like whipping out your black card in front of your friends. Also I think the lady who ran the trunk show has a company called "Haute Rod" - classy.
The only fair outcome this season would be if a giant meteor blazed down over Coto destroying these narcissistic wenches. Can't wait for next week.
-val

Monday, November 24, 2008

Twilight Mania


I've heard about the Twilight series for the past year now - even tried to buy the book for my son Daniel, who promptly told me "thanks, but no thanks." An avid reader myself I also overlooked the book, because 1) I've never been a Vampire genre kind of gal and 2) I'm not a 14 year old girl.

But last week the media bombarded everyone with all things "Twilight" and my kids became brainwashed by the  madness and forced me to take them. So on Saturday, me, Daniel (13), Ellie (11) and Daniel's best friend fought our way through the hoards of adolescent girls and went to see "Twilight". 

For the first 20 minutes I couldn't help but let out several loud guffaws. It was ripe with teenage angst and long lovey-dovey stare contests between Edward, the vampire and his aneroxic, pouty love interest Bella. I felt tanner than George Hamilton after watching vampire Edward and his cronies who were the color of a Chinette paper plate. Midway thru the movie, I actually started to like it and by the end I was a total fan. Sure some of the special effects and dialogue were cheesier than Velveeta, but after all is said and done it worked for me.

My daughter's best friend is so obsessed with the movie that she asked me to make her an "I Love Edward" shirt using some extra iron-on letters I had lying around. Since I didn't have all the available letters, I ended up cutting and pasting other letters to make the "L" and "W" and "D" causing the shirt to look like a 1970's kidnapping ransom note. She loved the shirt so much that she even wore it to her second showing on Sunday (yes I let my kids go back for a second round of Vampire worship the next day). Thank god I only had to make one tee shirt, as my kids, like me would rather parade around naked than wear a shirt proclaiming their love for someone. 

The country is in the middle of an economic crisis and I ended up spending $85 on that damned movie this weekend (between tickets for me and the kids and the snacks). Seriously, for $85 I could have purchased a 1/2 pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans or had a Swedish Massage. Crap, now I'm going to have to buy the books too.
-val

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Best of First Class to Hell: Assid Washed - or How I Flashed My Butt Cheeks to a Restaurant full of Steak Eaters

We'll be back in a few days. In the meantime enjoy this story of how I exposed my ass cheeks to a room full of unsuspecting steak eaters:

Men often say or do things without thinking first. For instance when I recently told my husband that despite working out at the gym for three straight weeks, my body hasn't changed at all, he replied, "Give it time." Umm wrong answer. The right answer (as we all know) would have been "You look great" or "Are you kidding me? I've totally noticed a change!" 

When my husband Tom and I first started dating in the early nineties, his father bought him a brand new Ford Thunderbird. It was stark white with red velour seats and a red leather dashboard. That thing was gangsta before gansta was gansta.* The deal was Tom would sell his old Honda CRX and give his dad the proceeds to pay for some of the new new pimp mobile. The CRX just needed a new battery, so Tom placed the old one in the back seat of the T-Bird to be recycled at the Pep Boys. This happened to be the same day that I would be meeting his mom for the first time. 

In preparation for the big night, I went to the mall and blew $68 on a Guess! cotton mini dress. (big bucks for me in 1991).  We were taking her to a nice steakhouse for her birthday and I wanted to make a great impression (hence the ultra expensive, designer dress). Ever the polite girlfriend I quickly jumped the back seat where the car battery had been sitting all day. In. The. Hot. Sun. I slid the battery over and sat back, making idle chit chat with Tom and his mom. Within minutes, I noticed a tingling sensation, not unlike a thousand scorpions biting my ass. The whole "battery thing" never registered as I hot-potatoed back in forth on alternate butt cheeks until we got to the restaurant. 

Dinner went great. The restaurant was packed and we sat at a table towards the center of the main room. Pleasantries were exchanged back and forth over Prime Rib and wine. My buns were still a tingling, but not quite so bad. It was sometime mid-cheesecake that I reached back for a quick scratch when I realized that, as far as my rear-end was concerned, the Guess dress was no more. Ok, now this was peculiar and bordering on horrific. My head did a quick 180 and looked down. My panties were still there, but barely. They were "hanging by a string." Literally. The dress had melted away on either butt cheek with a thin line of cloth left smack down the middle covering only my crack. Oh my god. I was wearing an assless dress. Brooke Hogan would have been proud.

I had no other recourse but to look at Tom and his mother and say, "Don't be alarmed but my dress is disintegrating and my butt is completely exposed." It took us Einsteins a while to put two and two together and deduct that my dress, panties and fleshy buttocks were slowly being eaten by battery acid. Tom's mother soon became my best pal and followed me (closely) to the bathroom. Since it was mid summer and no one had a sweater to "tie around" my waist we deducted that we needed to leave the restaurant before I was stark naked. We quickly paid the bill and walked out of there in a tight line like we were chain-ganged together. Back at the gansta car, the red velour seats had met the same fate as my Guess sundress. Tom's gansta mobile was know more of a ghetto mobile.  

Aside from Tom and his mother, I can't say for sure how many poor souls were exposed to my fleshy butt cheeks that night. I wish I could have apologized for ruining their appetites. Tom learned a valuable lesson that night and I lost a dress, but all was forgiven and my butt survived. -VAL

* Note: we are sooo not Gansta






Thursday, November 13, 2008

I Got Nothin'

I'm getting ready to head out of town for a few days and Parker is up to her eyebrows in work so we got nothin today.  Instead, I thought I'd do the old cliche blog trick of posting funny random pictures from the web (I know original, huh). I will be up in LA so maybe something new and exciting will happen (like earlier in the week when Harrison Ford almost inadvertently killed me as a lookey-loo in a huge Infiniti SUV nearly plowed head-on to me while she was driving/oogling at him pulling out of Barney's being photographed by umpteen hundred photographers). At least Celebrity Rehab is on tonight - always good fodder for the blogging world.

 In the meantime, enjoy the freak show:


"I'll take the radioactive cheese omelet and a side of carcinogenic home fries."  Gordon Ramsey needs to get to this "Kitchen Nightmare" stat.



Courtney Love blogging at 2:00 am (seriously if you've ever read one of her blog entries, you'll get it).

Sweetie, I think you're doing it wrong.


This is the kind of shit Parker might have done to a rival back in college. Don't mess with Parker's man.
-val